by Jillian Boyd
There was no linked chain barring entrance to their suite, which meant that other couples could enter and participate if they wanted to. Russell ushered her past the door, and whispered in her ear.
“Where’s Gina?”
Glenne avoided looking at a man and woman heading toward them, in case they wanted to swap partners. If she was going to have sex tonight as part of the act, she was going to have sex with Russell. This might be the only instance in her life where business and pleasure could be legitimately mixed.
“She’s always late. It’s her modus operandi.”
“So what are we supposed to do until she gets here?” he asked her suggestively. “We have to mix in with the rest of the attendees after all...”
He nibbled on her neck. It felt like he had nibbled on her clitoris, with the sensation shooting straight there.
Glenne’s heart raced. She was not able to think coherently. She knew that in her novel series, Harper Grey always had a man to make the chaos around her a little more manageable.
And, metaphorically speaking, she was Harper Grey tonight.
In their own suite, Russell had her against a wall and with her hands up over her head in seconds. With a hungry kiss that let her know he was just as starved for her as she was for him, she closed her eyes as she deepened their kiss. She felt a run go down her leg, from some snag along the wall. Russell’s eyes were intent, as he caressed the side of her breast before caressing it in its entirety.
Still holding her, Russell put the chain across the entrance to their suite. Glenne had been pretty sure that he wasn’t going to want to play with other couples either, but she was glad to confirm that he wanted her all to himself. When he did it, it was like they were in their own world.
“Take off your clothes,” he grunted, unbuttoning her blouse
“Leave on your suit,” she replied, her voice sounding just as huskily.
He smiled at her as he watched her finish unbuttoning her blouse, exposing her bare breasts right off the bat.
“So there’s a bit of kinkiness in you? A suit fetish, perhaps?”
Removing her skirt revealed that she hadn’t worn any underwear. She looked up at him.
“Talk? Or do?”
Russell pulled her to him while she was taking off her thigh high. She dug her nails into the other leg, tossing both ruined stockings carelessly onto the floor. She buried her face in his suit jacket, realizing he might have been right about her kinkiness. It was not something that she thought about before, but she guessed it was there right now.
The feeling of his suit against her bare skin while he was kissing her was one thing. Her bare ass against the chain that barred entry seemed ironic to her. There was no desire in her for others to enter, but she liked being watched, and that wasn’t something that she’d ever realized she liked until the past 24 hours. First in the bar, and now here with Russell.
“Tell me what you monitored when I was under surveillance,” she whispered in his ear.
“What do you mean?”
“Tell me what you saw. Did you see me naked?”
She reached down to grab his shaft, which was the only thing naked about him.
“Yes,”
“What else?” she asked licking the stubble along his cheek. “Tell me what else.”
“Will it get you off if I tell you that I took out the same dick you’re holding, and touched myself while I was surveying you?”
Her involuntary moan let him know that it had.
“I want you inside me. Call me Harper. Harper Grey.”
The coolness of the chain was rough against her bottom, as he pressed her against the wall and she put one leg up around him. He entered her in one swift motion, his fingers lingering on her damp inner thighs.
“You’re so wet, Harper,”
Glenne squeezed herself around him. Between the surveillance story, him calling her Harper and knowing they were being watched she was about to explode.
And then his phone rang.
“Shit, Harper!”
She came so hard, she closed her eyes and feared she was going to pass out. Pressed back against the wall catching her breath, she felt cold when Russell moved away and wondered how they could have blended in with the group now. With him on the phone.
“Okay, I can’t really talk right now, but I got it. I got it.”
Russell walked toward her, and she wasn’t sure what to think from the look on his face.
“Is everything okay?”
“Put on your clothes Harper. Glenne.”
In the situation they were currently in, she just did what he told her to do. They were working, and she wasn’t sure what was going on.
Russell let the chain drop roughly to the floor. Glenne followed him as they walked up a maze of stairs and then out of the bar.
“What, what?” she questioned anxiously.
“Gina isn’t coming tonight.”
“How--”
“She was in a car accident with the agent we suspected she was working with. They were both killed.”
“What does that mean? Do we need to pursue someone else here tonight?”
“Odette said that she would figure everything out, and in the morning we’d know what we ‘re going to do.”
“Do you still need me?”
“I don’t know. But I know that now that they know your background, it’s going to be hard for us to not to want to permanently recruit you. I don’t know yet.”
Glenne put her hand on his chest.
“I could direct you back to the bar and we could pick up from where we were before...but we’re off duty...”
Russell pulled her close to him.
“We are off duty, but it is my turn to get off...Harper...”
He smacked her bottom. Glenne didn’t know how much longer she was going to be Harper, but right now she was her calm in the middle of the chaos.
Undercover Desires
Ria Restrepo
Normally, the sunny South Florida day would have been heaven - especially while driving a sexy red convertible across Rickenbacker Causeway. Marissa loved the briny sea air whipping at her hair, the sun warming her skin, the glittering water of Biscayne Bay, and the salsa music blaring from the car stereo. But instead of enjoying the experience, she was preoccupied with keeping tabs on the black SUV a few cars behind her.
It could have been a coincidence. After all, even though she first spotted the SUV a block from Enrique’s mansion, this was the only way on and off Key Biscayne. It didn’t feel like a coincidence, though.
Rissa looked over at the passenger seat and saw the handle of the cat o’ nine tails sticking out of her black leather tote bag. Taking one hand off the wheel, she reached over and shoved the handle deeper into her bag of tricks.
Did they know? Had they detected her breaching their off-the-charts security? Were they coming after her?
If she was being followed, they weren’t being aggressive about it, so maybe they were just monitoring Enrique’s newest ‘therapist’. She’d just have to see if they stayed with her.
Leaving the causeway, she took the exit onto Brickell and drove north. The black SUV took the same route - always keeping a few cars between them - all the way across the Miami River. Rissa turned onto Biscayne Boulevard heading east, then north, and it continued shadowing her.The tiny hairs on her arms rose and her heart rate picked up. She was definitely being followed.
Going past a small parking lot for the Bayfront Park Metromover Station, Rissa noticed a rare empty spot and made a quick decision. She circled around to the lot entrance, praying the space remained open. Thankfully it did and she pulled in. While she raised the convertible top and turned off the car, the SUV slowly passed behind her - presumably looking for a spot, but t
here wasn’t another one available.
Rissa grabbed her tote, got out, and locked up the car. Behind her sunglasses, she observed the SUV gradually making its way down the next row of spaces. Trying to keep calm and look casual, she slung her bag over her shoulder and walked towards the station. Just as she was about to cross the street to the stairs leading to the train platform, she saw the SUV stop and a passenger jump out while the driver stayed with the car.
Damn!
As fast as she could on sky-high stilettos, Rissa climbed the stairs. An Inner Loop train was pulling into the station, so she made her way to it and followed a group of midday commuters and tourists on board. Ignoring the sideways glances her outfit was getting, she found a seat towards the back, so she could keep an eye on the tram doors. Before they closed, her tail hopped on and grabbed a standing spot at a pole.
Getting a better look, Rissa remembered seeing him at Enrique’s mansion - one of his enforcers. He was of medium height, stocky, muscular build, black hair, dark Mediterranean complexion, wearing gray slacks, a light blue shirt, and mirrored sunglasses. No obvious gun, but he was probably armed.
Rissa considered her next move as they made their way to the next station. She needed to get the information she had to her boss, but not while she was being watched. It was necessary to maintain her role as Enrique’s ‘therapist’ until they confirmed she’d obtained what they needed.
Maybe she could lose him in the Government Center Station. When they arrived, Rissa got off and crossed the platform. Watching the reflection in the glass doors leading into the station, she saw him exit the train too.
Since this was the hub for all Metromover and Metrorail routes going through downtown Miami, there were plenty of people inside milling about - some heading up to the Metrorail platform, some going to the food court, and some heading to street level. She wove in and out of groups of people, hoping to give him the slip, but no such luck. He stuck to her like glue.
Now what?
She could hide the information someplace, then have it picked up. But where? The main library was nearby...maybe she could hide the thumb drive in amongst some books that were unlikely to be checked out - especially in this day and age.
Having a workable plan, Rissa went down to street level and headed for the Cultural Centre. The complex was across the street and a simple, but elegant, Spanish Mission Style building with a terracotta tile roof. A set of steps led up to a wide, diamond-patterned courtyard covered in beige and terracotta tiles. To the right were the art and history museums. On the left was the library. The lower level façade was a series of rounded arches forming an arcade. In the centre of the second storey were three large arched windows with small wrought-iron balconies.
Rissa walked to the library, went inside, and prepared to scale more stairs. Her feet were killing her; she wasn’t used to wearing five-inch heels - especially not on the job. At least the library was a cool respite from the summer heat. Her clothes were clinging to her even more than they were designed to.
With a sigh, Rissa removed her sunglasses, tucked them into her bag, and took one painful step at a time. Once on the second level, she went to the balcony and looked down. When she saw Mr. Swarthy come in the front doors, she quickly backed away from the edge so he wouldn’t see her. With any luck, he’d search the lower floor first, giving her time to stash the thumb drive before he caught up to her.
As Rissa turned for the nearest row of books, she ran into a man pushing a cart.
“Sorry about that, miss,” said a deep, rich voice as strong hands helped her regain her balance. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, it was my fault for not paying attention,” she said before looking up into intense blue eyes - which seemed remarkably familiar.
Those eyes widened and he said, “Rissa? Marissa Dubois?”
Then it hit her-”Nick Kelly.”
He flashed her a smile. “You remember.”
How could she ever forget those soul-piercing eyes? Although, he had filled out quite a bit since high school. Then, he’d been a quiet, lanky kid who read a lot. His face was more angular now, his features more distinct: broad forehead, high cheekbones, long straight nose, wide generous mouth, strong jaw, a few laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, and his once shaggy brown hair was neatly trimmed. He was tall, lean, and very tempting - and still Nick.
Then she noticed the official-looking badge clipped to his shirt. Nick obliviously worked there.
Rissa returned his smile, hoping he was just what she was looking for.
***
Nick couldn’t believe it. His childhood friend and teenage dream girl stood before him looking like...well, like she just stepped off the cover of a men’s magazine. Her slinky red top was unbuttoned enough to show off a generous amount of cleavage, her black leather skirt was so short it didn’t quite cover the lacy band of her thigh-high fishnet stockings, and her black heels were so high she was almost as tall as him.
Even more shocking, her naturally dark brown hair was dyed honey blonde and pulled up into a high, tight ponytail and the make-up on her sweetheart-shaped face was a little heavy and severe for that time of day. Nick normally preferred the natural look, but the glossy red lipstick on her pouty lips gave him some dirty thoughts about what he’d love to see those lips wrapped around. Actually, the whole package made his khakis feel very constrictive. The fact that it was Rissa looking that way only increased his discomfort.
Nick might’ve thought he was having a wet dream like the ones he had as a horny teen, but dream Rissa’s smile wouldn’t be tight, her brow wouldn’t be furrowed, she wouldn’t be clutching a large bag to her side in a white-knuckled grip, and she wouldn’t be glancing over her shoulder like the Devil was on her tail.
Before he could voice any of the questions buzzing in his head, Rissa grabbed his arm and pulled him between the closest rows of books.
“Is there somewhere more private we could talk?” she asked softly, leaning in so close a light gardenia scent teased his nose and he could feel her breath on his neck.
“Yeah,” he said and cleared his throat. “That’s a good idea.”
Nick automatically put his hand on the small of her back to guide her down the aisle towards the back of the building. Through the thin, silky blouse, he could feel the muscles in her back taut with tension.
“So, you’re a librarian here?” she asked as they turned and went down another aisle.
“Yeah, head librarian, actually.”
Rissa looked up and gave him a genuine smile this time, her back relaxing a bit. “You always loved reading; I should have known you’d make a career out of it.”
Nick smiled back. “Do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life, right?”
She looked away. “Right.”
“Do you do what you love?”
Her back became rigid again. “Most of the time.”
Leading her past a bay of computer terminals, Nick didn’t press the issue, but he was determined to find out what was going on. At his office, he opened the door and ushered her inside. Rissa immediately went to the large window overlooking the multimedia area and lowered the blind as he closed the door behind him. Once they were completely concealed, she let out a deep breath and leaned against the low file cabinet beneath the window.
“Are you in trouble, Rissa?”
Her hazel eyes met his. “You could say that.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’m being followed.”
“What?!”
Nick was surprised by the sudden intense anger that flared in his gut. It had been over a decade since he’d last seen her. He didn’t know who she was anymore or what she was mixed up in, but the thought of someone harassing her really pissed him off.
Instinctively, he moved towards the window to see
whose ass he was going to kick, but she stepped in front of him before he could open the blind.
“No, he might see you,” she said. “I don’t want him to know that I know he’s there.”
“Who’s he?” Nick asked, keeping his voice low and even with great effort.
“One of the bad guys.”
“Explain, Rissa.”
“I can’t go into details, but I’m working undercover for the FBI and I need your help.”
Nick stared at her for a moment, then laughed. “God, you had me going there!”
Rissa’s eyebrows pinched together in a cute little scowl. “I’m serious!”
“Right, you’re an FBI agent,” he said with a snort, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I’d show you my badge,” she said, planting her hands on curvy hips, “but I’m under...cover.”
“That’s convenient. How do I know this isn’t a prank and the cheerleader posse isn’t somewhere recording this for the next reunion’s gag reel? No, wait, there’s a hidden camera in that bag you’ve been holding on to for dear life.”
Nick really didn’t think Rissa would participate in something like that - she never had in high school. Although she had been a cheerleader and hung with the ‘in’ crowd, she was always nice and respectful to everyone, no matter what clique they were in. But could sweet, friendly Rissa be a badass FBI agent? It just didn’t seem possible.
“Look, I don’t have time for this,” she said, and started rummaging in her large purse. To Nick’s amazement, Rissa pulled out a black leather cat o’ nine tails and dropped her bag onto the floor.
“Whoa, no need to get violent,” he said, holding up his hands.
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t tempt me.”
Nick watched as she twisted off the end of the whip handle, upended it over her palm, and retrieved a small thumb drive. Rissa then put the handle back together and the whip joined her purse on the floor.